


Sinner

by MisterBroflovski



Category: Metallica
Genre: Car Sex, Crushing, M/M, Mild Kink, Pining, Spanking, belt, older/younger relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterBroflovski/pseuds/MisterBroflovski
Summary: Kirk Hammett takes a liking to one of his customers at the record store. (KEA Era Kirk, Reload Era James)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally wrote another one shot. Oops ❤️

"I'll be in the back if you need me.   
And I know you will." Bob calls, taking his keys to the back of the record shop and shutting the glass door. My shift just started and he's already making me fend for myself. And on a Friday evening, no less. High school kids are gonna be piling in here any moment to get their hands on something for the weekend. 

It doesn't take long for my nightmare to come true. I'm trying to mind my own business until someone needs me, so I kick back behind the counter and watch the little pull tabs on the bulletin board disappear. The board is almost full this week, we've got some little bands performing around town and they chose to advertise here. There's a flier for a house party, too, and the kid who dropped it off made us promise that we wouldn't go to the cops if he had alcohol. 

Dumbass kid. I wouldn't have even known he was underage until he said something. 

I have to ring up a couple albums, wincing as I watch our brand new rack of Iron Maiden's "Killers" vanish before my eyes. I work here and I haven't even bought it yet. I hope to fuck that they don't sell out tonight. 

The best part about being in full charge of the record shop on a busy night is having the music to myself. I get to play whatever I want, and I intend on taking advantage of that. Maybe I can get some energy back into this place, so the kids in here will feel more obligated to hang out rather than make me ring them up. This whole place is packed with decked-out denim, head to toe. Heavy sounds of steel toed boots and chains treading not so smoothly almost drowns out the new Saxon record I picked. But I can still hear it in my little corner behind the counter, which is all that really matters. 

"Denim and Leather." Perfect for a night like tonight. 

I've got my nose buried in a magazine that I took off display. I'm ignoring who comes through the door on purpose, they're already making their entrance clear as day. It's freezing ass outside and the little bells are loud as hell. 

"Excuse me?" A mousy, female voice attempts, poorly, to get my attention. I look up from the magazine and see a short little blonde thing, wearing what has to be her boyfriend's shirt. 

I can't picture a girl like that listening to Venom. 

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" I take my boots down from atop the counter and sit up straight in my chair. "I wanted to um...get my boyfriend the Iron Maiden album for Christmas-"

I was right. 

"They're over by the stand."

"But there's no more. I was wondering if-"

"Yeah, hold on."

I stand up from my chair and go to the back to restock before more people come whining to me that the bin is empty. 

Not my fault Maiden kicks ass. 

Bob notices me taking another stack of 'Killers' from the shipping package. "Out already?" He says, maybe thinking that I'm taking these for my own good or something. "Yeah. They're going quick." I guess I kind of overestimated my strength, because carrying the stack is a chore and I struggle all the way to the bins. But I get them refilled, the bins look like they did when I got here. Then I get a few seconds of solitude before everyone comes to my counter to check out. 

I had to go to the back to restock twice more, and ultimately ran out. People were getting pissy, but now I have a notepad full of claims for whenever we order another batch. It was starting to get late and sales were getting low, the record shop looked empty again. Bob still never came back out, which I can understand, but dealing with angry metalheads without a Maiden fix was kind of terrifying. I almost got my ass handed to me a couple times. 

It was ten o' clock, right before the end of my shift, and the little bells ring again and it scares the shit out of me. Since I can't see the door from where I am, and the place looks dead, I greet whoever comes in. But it's a bit snobby. 

"Hey, we're closing in ten minutes."

"Damn."

It's a guy. He sounds intimidating. I don't answer, I just hide behind my magazine. "No more Maiden, huh?" Again, I don't respond. The sound of this guy's voice has completely broken my shell. And now I feel like a timid little bitch. 

Finally I bring myself to look toward the Iron Maiden stand, and catch quite the fucking eyeful. He's tall, probably about seven or eight inches taller than me. And he's got short, wavy blonde hair. He's walking over toward me, with one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket. I don't think I can answer to him if he asks me anything. 

He's...scary. Honestly. 

As he gets closer, I try to act normal, like I'm not trying to escape. But I can see his striking blue eyes now, and I'm shaking. 

"Is it alright if I come back next time you get those records in?" 

He asks, putting a hand on the glass counter. He has to look directly down to see me. 

He's chewing something, gum probably. That's when I pay extra close attention to his face. Dirty blonde goatee, red nose from the cold and a face full of acne scars. 

Acne scars that don't particularly bother me. Actually, they work really nicely with his face. 

He's an attractive man. 

A really, really attractive man. 

Does thinking that make me gay?

"Yeah, of course. I just uh..need to uh..." I'm losing my words as I scramble to find the notepad with the wait list. I finally find it, holding the pen upside down at first, but I get it right and he's chuckling at me. 

"I need your uh...name and number."

Goddamn I'm smooth! Already getting hot guy's number!

He tells me that, and only that. I don't get a name. 

He turns to leave, giving me a half up smirk, and the little bells chime. My knees are weak and I can feel my face fucking drop in awe. I'm staring. 

"Wait! Your name!"

"You'll find out soon enough." 

And the door shuts. 

\--------------

I had to report back to Bob about everything we've sold today, and about how many people came in, because he's paranoid and doesn't want his shit stolen. I do leave out the little detail of my new guy-crush, though. Bob's pretty good at remembering faces, so he's probably seen this guy before. 

Again, paranoid. 

At least I have his number. I'm gonna have to call him to let him know his order is ready, I don't know if I can, though. His voice broke me. 

 

The next day at work, I see the truck in the back, and Bob loading in boxes. My stomach twists when he calls me over. He already called in the order for the new Iron Maiden albums, and he wants me to help load them in. That means I'm going to have to call that hot guy up. Maybe I'll call him first. Maybe I'll call him last. I'm usually pretty okay at talking on the phone...I don't think I can call this guy. Maybe I'll make Bob do it. 

"Hammett! Call up those people in your book, tell 'em the albums are in."

Shit. He's leaving, isn't he? 

"I'm gonna head down to get some food, want anything?" Bob asks, as he's halfway out the door. I shake my head, before realizing he can't see me, and say, "No, I'm..I'm okay. Thank you." The bells ring and Bob is gone. 

Now I'm alone with the phone, and that paper. My eyes dart down to the bottom, where there's a number, but no name. 

Thinking about what he said, "You'll find out soon enough", what the hell does that mean? Was that supposed to scare me? Because if it was, it worked. Really well. I'm trying to dial in the numbers and my hands are shaking. So I guess I'm calling him first. He's most important, after all. He hasn't gotten out of my head since yesterday night, nearly 24 hours I've been thinking about this guy and what I could've done differently as to not embarrass myself. Boy did I do a good job of making an ass of myself. 

The phone starts to ring in my ear and my heart races. I fucking hope he picks up, so I know he's real. It takes entirely too many rings until it finally clicks, but that's when my heart must have exploded. 

"Yeah?" 

"Hi, um...I was calling to let you-"

"Who's speaking? Is this that kid from the record shop?" 

Kid. I'm not a fucking kid, sir. 

"Uh, yeah." I say, and my voice shakes a little, as I let off a nervous laugh. He hears me, and chuckles into the phone. 

"I was just gonna let you know that I'm holding onto your Maiden album for you." 

"Aw, thanks kiddo," 

I can feel my hands sweating around the phone. I can't believe he called me that, Jesus...

"I'll come take it off your hands in a bit, kid. Looking forward to seeing you." I can hear him smile as he says it, and I know he's just got the most gorgeous fucking smile. 

Before I can give him my own awkward little reply, he hangs up. Thankfully. I can't think of anything to respond to that. All I know is that I'm short of breath and my heart is thumping loud into my veins. I'm trying to keep as much composure as I possibly can as I call up the other people on the list, and try to deal with a couple trickling customers here and there. They can tell something is wrong, they probably think I'm on drugs. I look that way. I can see my reflection in the security mirror, and I'm kind of a mess. 

One guy comes in to buy patches, and while I'm getting them out of the glass case, I can see my face there too. My hair is frizzy and my face is a bit shiny. Probably because I've been sweating in that horrible nervousness that blonde asshole threw me into. I hand the guy his patches, ring him up, and another lady calls for my help with the posters. 

He leaves, and my job here alone begins to get a little hectic. I have to run back behind the counter to get the keys, and when I do, the phone rings. I put my hand up to signal to the lady that I have to take the call, and she rolls her eyes. 

Bitch. 

Someone is calling to check on their order, and I tell them that they can come pick it up any time today. I've told that to everyone, so that means I'm going to be pretty busy. Hopefully Bob gets his head out of his ass and helps me out. I get back to the lady, unlock the display case for her and take the rolled up poster to my counter. While I ring her up, I call another number on the list. She looks a bit peeved, but I'm busy, god dammit. And I want to get this done before hot guy comes back. 

I have to put the phone to my chest while I tell her her price, she almost tosses the cash at me and takes her poster without a word. God, what a fucking whore. It's not my fault I'm trying to help everyone at once. Again I'm left alone while trying to call up these people. Getting done is extremely satisfying, even if I had to drop a couple calls, due to the fact that they didn't pick up. I just didn't like having to say the exact same thing over and over with a different name to preface it. 

Bob finally gets back, I guess when I told him I didn't want any food, he decided to sit down and eat, because he took for fucking ever and didn't bring anything back. 

"Was it busy?" He asks, watching he wipe sweat from my forehead and sigh. "Yeah. Thanks by the way. Some lady got annoyed because I was trying to help everyone else."

"Don't let 'em think they're that important, cuz they're not."

"Who?"

"Bitches," he laughs and goes back to the storage area. God dammit Bob, I need help up here. 

The door chimes and my head whips around. I hear boots touch the floor and my eyes nearly pop out of my skull. It's him, it has to be. And this is a terrible time for him to be here because I'm sweaty and frizzy and frustrated and flustered, fuck, give me a second...

"Hey, you." He's back, and he looks even better than he did yesterday. He's still got the same jacket on, but he has three earrings in one ear now, and he's wearing a Thin Lizzy T-shirt. He smiles at me, probably expecting me to smile back, but I can't. I'm about to panic. 

"Y'alright?" I nod and scrounge around under the counter, looking for the album I held onto, just for him. I can feel him staring at me. I must look like absolute shit, I really really wish he didn't see me like this. My hair isn't even all that curly today. It's just fluffy. 

"Here's the um...your album." 

"Just for me, huh?" He takes the glossy album in his hands and runs his thumbs over the surface. He's got three rings on, two on his right hand and one on his left. All bulky and busy. His whole getup is bulky and busy. 

God, he's pretty. 

I stand, itching at my wrists while I watch him examine his new toy. He looks back up at me, raising a heavily arched eyebrow. "Why are you so nervous?" He asks, with a mischievous grin. 

My eyes widen. "...nervous?" 

The man rolls his eyes at me, and sets the album on the counter. While he responds, he reaches into his back pocket to get his cash. 

"Yes, nervous. Are you like this with everyone? It's a wonder how you've kept this job, if that's the case." 

"I'm not..."

"How much, sweetheart?" 

My hand slips on the counter and I knock something over. A smile breaks across his face. 

"Uh! Uh-...tw-twenty seven fifty," I cover half my face and take his cash. I can barely even figure out how to make his change. 

"Nervous?" He says, mocking my voice. My face has to be red as hell right now, he's teasing the fuck out of me, goddammit, I don't think I deserve this. 

Give me more. 

He opens his palm for me to drop the change into his hand, and my finger tips touch his skin. 

"Shut up."

"Hey now, is that any way to treat a customer?" 

I must have jumped a solid three feet in the air when he gripped the edge of the counter and lunged his face toward mine. 

I yelped, and shrunk away from him, my eyes wide. 

"Maybe I should report you to your manager," he says, and his voice is a low, growly tone. 

I shake my head timidly. He watches my hair move as I do so. "No? You wouldn't like that?"

"No.."

He grins at me again, and backs away. "Calm down darlin', I'm just giving you a hard time." 

I need to stop letting him walk on me like that. I mean...I like it, a lot. But I don't know if what he's doing is to make me feel like shit or not. I don't know his intentions. I don't even know his name. 

I don't know what to say, either. I just stare at him, blinking slowly. My mouth is parted like I'm trying to say something but my brain is dumbfounded. 

"Christ kid, calm down. I ain't gonna hurt ya. You're spoilin' me." He holds up the album and waves it in the air for a second. I give him a little smile back to make myself feel a little less awkward. I know I'm making an ass out of myself, especially now that he can see my fucked up teeth, but he grins back. 

"Lemme see that paper of yours." 

I hold up my notepad with the numbers on it. "This one?" He motions for me to hand it over, and asks for a pen too. "Yeah. Lemme see it." I give him the notepad and my pen, he doesn't hold it upside down like I did because apparently he's not a total dumbass. And he scribbles something just below his number. Then he spins it around on the counter and slides it back over to me. 

The last thing he tells me before he leaves is, "Nice shirt." 

I have to stretch my shirt out in front of me to remind myself what I'm wearing. 

I'm wearing his shirt. A Thin Lizzy shirt, like the one he was wearing, but a different design. I didn't even notice...

The paper has chicken scratch handwriting taking up the rest of the space. 

"JAYMZ HETFIELD (YOU CAN CALL ME PAPA HET)" 

And drawn next to it is a tiny little heart. 

God fucking dammit. I'm out of my world and back in my shift, and now I have to help dumbass metalheads out. Come back James. God dammit, come back. 

He still doesn't know my name. That means he has to come back, right?

\-------------

Bob lets me stay home on Sunday, but I'm back to work Monday afternoon. I almost didn't even get here, because the taxis hate to drive in the snow. I ended up here anyway, working my ass off trying to sell the used shirts and the 45's off to agitated, frozen customers. They don't seem to want my help, but I'm getting paid to help them out. And Bob sure as fuck isn't gonna do it. He'd miss Happy Days! 

I've been thinking about James since I got to my apartment Saturday night. I wish I knew how old he was, maybe if I did I could let go of this crush and feel better about my embarrassing actions. He's got to be at least twice my age, right? Admittedly, he doesn't look that old. But I graduated from high school this May. Maybe he'll stop teasing me if I tell him how old I am and I can pretend I've never gotten infatuated with someone who could be a dad. Who could be married. 

I'm just a kid. 

No, I'm a young adult. 

"Shit it's cold out there!" Bob comes in and shuts the door as fast as he can. "It's snowing like crazy! I doubt we're gonna shoo anyone else in." 

"But it's warm in here,"

"Says you. You're in a leather jacket. You must be cooking." 

"I am. I'd rather cook than freeze." 

He shrugs and brushes snowflakes out of his hair. "You sell anything while I was out?" 

"Yeah, I did. I sold a bunch of shirts and some of the old 45s." 

"You sold the 45s?" 

"Yeah, I did. You proud 'a me?" I ask, showing off my fucked up teeth and cocking me head to the side. 

"Sure kid," Bob says, between a laugh. He vanishes into the back room and I'm left to kick my feet up on the counter. I've got about...two hours left of my shift, and the business is slow. So I put on a record and play with my own hair until something happens. 

Little bells chime, and a family comes in. I can't help but smack my forehead in frustration. 

"Hello," a Dad says, holding back his kid by the collar. 

"I'm looking for some VHS tapes for my kids, have you got anything like that?" His glasses have droplets of melted snow on them and every member of the family is covered in snowflakes. Thank god they're not looking for metal records. This isn't my department. 

"One minute," I say, sitting back up and excusing myself into the back. 

"Bob, there's a Dad out here and he needs you. I can't help him."

"What's he want?"

"Tapes. For his kids."

Bob groans and pushes the door open to talk to this guy. I take that as an opportunity to reorganize the 45's, that have been absolutely ravaged. I can hear the mom yelling at the other kid, who was probably trying to fuck up my displays. I'd drop kick that little asshole if he fucked something up. 

I hear something fall to the ground, and then the mom's temper flare. I can't help but wince knowing I'm going to have to clean up whatever they destroyed. I can hear Bob getting frustrated with them too, but finally I hear the sound of the cash register, and I know it's over. Thank fuck it's over. 

The bells chime a few times and the family is gone. I can hear my record again. 

"Jesus Christ, Kirk, can you come clean this up for me?" 

I turn around to see Bob pointing at a mess on the floor, I'm relieved to see it wasn't one of our displays, but it looks like one of the little assholes spilled his Pepsi on our floor. "Ah shit. I guess."

"You guess?" Bob sounds a little peeved at my attitude, but shit. I have to get on my hands and knees to clean up after some kid. 

"I don't wanna clean up some kid's drink," I whine, as I grab the roll of paper towels from behind my spot on the counter. As I drop to my knees to clean it up, Bob replies, more annoyed than before. 

"If you had just dealt with them on your own this wouldn't be an issue." I turn my head away from the roll of paper towels to look at my employer. "VHS isn't my fuckin' department." 

Bob finally widens his eyes at me. 

"You've been dealing with everything else just fuckin' fine while I was gone." 

"I'm your employee! Not your bitch! You're never here, I thought I'd let you do your own job!" 

Bob looks as though his ears are about to steam. The bells chime, but neither of us pay any mind. We're too busy yelling at one another, gradually getting louder, to pay attention to the backbone of our establishment. 

"You know what, Hammett? You can kiss my ass on a ride home tonight. Find your own fucking ride." Bob rattles his keys in his hand as he storms out of the shop. I grit my teeth together and scrub at the floor to clean up the mess. 

"What the hell was that all about?" 

I nearly slipped in the mess. James. Dear Christ, not now. I scramble to my feet to face my new romantic interest, and pray that I look somewhat presentable. He's got snowflakes in his hair and goatee, and there's still traces of snow in his eyelashes. 

"Oh-This uh...this kid came in and made a mess...and I got mad at my boss for making me clean it up." I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. 

"Your boss? That's a little disobedient, kid." 

I heated up pretty quickly. "But he-"

"Come on, clean it up kiddo. Then we can talk about getting you home." He takes a cigarette out of the box, it was in the pocket of his leather jacket. As he puts it between his lips and lights it, he adds, "Guess I came just in time." I drop back to my knees, keeping in mind the whole "disobedience" thing. 

While I'm there, I'm doing my best to speed up the process, but I almost completely melt when I hear the sound of leather stretching behind me. James is on his knees behind me, and his groin is lined up with my ass. He doesn't touch me though, no. He's just waiting for me to clean up...I stop, when I feel his heat, and he rolls the paper towels back toward me when I do. "Come on, I know you know what you're doin'." 

I use up quite a few paper towels cleaning up that shithead's mess, but feeling James behind me for that split second was motivation enough for me to finish up quick. I toss all the sopping towels in the garbage and wipe my hands off on my jeans. And he's standing by, leaning up against a wall with his legs crossed and a cigarette between his lips. His eyes are dark and low, he knows he's getting under my skin. 

"You're a good kid when you listen," he says, flicking away some ash. 

I frown, at the ground of course. I don't need him seeing my shame right now. 

"I heard you're out of a ride. I came here to buy some shirts, but I can wait until tomorrow. It's getting late and cold." 

"That's okay, you can still pick something out and I'll ring you up." I stand against the counter, so I can be as far from his heat as possible. The absolute last thing I need is to be around the ashy, sultry smell of him again. He shakes his head and presses his cigarette butt into the ash try by the entrance. "No, sweetheart. I wanna get you outta here and get you warmed up." 

"I promise it's okay-" James gets up close again, in a similar swift movement. He places his hands flat on the glass behind me and leans up close to my face, somehow still avoiding touching me. 

"I know you're a good kid. You gonna listen to me?" 

"Yes, I'm sorry," I whine. His breath is rolling out onto the skin of my cheek. He smells heavily of tobacco, which is fine by me. I'm probably shaking like a chihuahua right now, but that's okay, I can't feel it. And I'm sure James is getting a kick out of it. He backs away, chuckling. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Lock this place up and I'll take you home." 

His 'yeah' came out as a threat, almost. It makes me weak. 

I do as I'm told again, shutting off the lights in the back and turning off the generators, then I grab my wad of keys from behind the counter. 

We're standing in the dark, and it's the first time I've been able to compare my size to his accurately. He has to be about six foot three. Which is huge to my mere five foot six. He looks down at me, and I'm sure he can barely see the features of my face with the light of the street lamp outside. His eyebrows furrow down, and one of his hands comes up to my face. He actually touches me this time, and it's making me quiver. His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "How old are you kid?" He asks, suddenly, but quietly. 

"I turned nineteen last week," I say, and he looks extremely relieved. Must have thought I was younger than 18 seeing me up close. His finger is bent under my chin, and his tilts my head up, gets too fucking close, and says, "Then Happy Birthday."

And he pushes me off, telling me to open the door. 

Holy fuck. I can't do this. 

My hands grab at thin air twice looking for the door handle, but it gets there, eventually. And I creak open the door. The bells jingle, and the initial cold wind nearly knocks me flat on my ass. James places one hand on my back to get me through the door. It's freezing. There's already snow in my eyelashes and hair, and I've been here for fifteen seconds. Once James is out and making footprints in the snow to his car, I lock up the store and tug the handle a couple times. Can't be too safe. 

I can hardly see shit trying to follow in James' footsteps. My vision is horrendous anyway, and the snow, plus the darkness, is making it virtually impossible to see. I even have to stand at the sidewalk for a minute until James turns on the headlights, and I'm guided to the car. I expected the interior to be warm, but it was just as cold inside as outside. 

James takes off his jacket and tosses it into the backseat before he gets in. His shirt doesn't have a design today, it's plain black, but it's skin tight and showing off his figure. I have to look away before I start staring. When he shuts the door, I can already feel myself heating up. 

"Alright, where to?" 

I stumble over my words while trying to tell him my address, and he shakes his head, smiling. "So nervous," 

James opens up the center console, and takes out a cassette tape. It's Thin Lizzy's new album, Renegade. "Guess where I got this?" 

"Where?"

"Your Record Store kiddo, I got it from you."

How is that possible? I don't remember ever seeing James before Friday! I'm sure I would have remembered, considering I'm in his car now, and he's singlehandedly hijacking my thoughts. "It couldn't have been me." 

"You guys were really busy. I'm not surprised you don't remember me." He lets the radio take the cassette, and turns down the volume just a little. 

He must have been less hot or something. 

"I'm sure I would have remembered.." my voice trails off weakly as I stare at the dashboard. James giggles, and one of his hands comes off the steering wheel. It lands on my jeans, the ripped up spot on my knee, and I jump a bit. I expected him to let go right after, but he doesn't, he holds onto my leg while he drives. I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I suffocate. 

"You live alone kid?" 

Sketchy-ass question if you ask me. But I don't care. He's hot. 

"I do."

His hand moves up my leg, and he gently squeezes my thigh. His hand can fit around my entire thigh, too, I'm scrawny and he's..big. Just, in general. He could probably break my leg right now if he wanted to. But that's obviously not what he wants. I look down at his hand, and my next exhale comes out shaky. 

"So no one would be upset with you if you came home a little late..?" 

His hand only inches higher. A nervous laugh breaks up my response. "I suppose not,"

He squeezes again. The warmth of his paw feels really fucking good, I'm practically frozen solid and he's melting me right back down. 

"Goooood. I don't wanna let you go so quick." 

What? Oh dear Christ. Stop touching my leg, stop touching my leg, fuck, stop, stop it...

Dammit. It's too late. He's getting me hard. Thankfully these jeans are tight enough so that he can't tell. I think. 

"You're alright, aren't you?" 

"Yeah-I'm just-"

"Nervous?" James' hand finally reaches my groin and the ball of his palm presses into it. I cover my entire face with my hands, and exhale sharply. 

"I guess so," his laugh nearly rips my chest apart. I don't think I'm going to be able to breathe for much longer if he keeps this shit up. "Damn, feel that?" He palms at me a bit rougher, making sure he gets a reaction. He gets one, alright. I kick myself for making such a submissive sound. 

"Means I've gotten to you, huh?" 

I nod beneath my hands, and James continues to palm at me. But as I peek through my fingers, he's got his eyes on the road. Even unzipping my pants now and he's pretending as if he has no clue he's killing me. 

When he gets my fly open, he wraps his hand around my dick and runs it across its length a couple times, through my briefs. I peek down at the scene, his hands are incredibly veiny. 

Ohh, Christ...

"Yeeaaah, I got to you fast. Saw that glassy look in your eyes when I came in," 

I can't reply to him. I just whine and cover my eyes back up. He keeps moving his hand across my dick, just making sure I stay hard, I suppose...

"Ah-fuck.."

"I dunno what I did, but I got that little heart thumpin'." 

My hands fall away from my face, and they grip the sides of the headrest behind me instead. He takes it as an excuse to go further, and pulls the waistband away from my navel. Then he's got his hand around my dick, skin to skin. 

I bury my face into my arm, and breathe out his name. 

He chuckles. 

"You know, I had a plan to get you between my sheets. I had everything mapped out, but this was so much easier than I thought it would be." 

"Fuck-.." 

"I'm glad we see eye to eye," 

Suddenly I feel the car stop rumbling beneath me, and I open my eyes again. James had covered me back up and his forearm is draped across the center console. 

"Look at me." 

I do as I'm told, and straighten up a bit in my seat. His other hand comes up to my face, I go crosseyed watching it. His fingers pull one of my curls straight, and lets it go to watch it bounce. 

He mouths "fuckin' gorgeous", and then cups my cheek. He keeps me in place, never breaking eye contact, while he unbuckles me. 

I'm just staring, my mouth parted. I can't help it. He's too fucking perfect. 

While he pushes the seatbelt off of my chest, his huge hand curls around the back of my neck, and he lurches toward me, yet again. 

This is the best time though. Because he pushes his lips against mine. I can smell the tobacco in his breath, and on his skin. 

I absolutely did not expect my Monday night to go this way. Kissing a man twice my age in his car. His mustache is against my Cupid's bow, his lips work against mine and his hands are all fucking over me. 

One hand holds the collar of my shirt close, the other holds the back of my head. I'm shaking, violently. But despite that, my leather jacket is cooking me, like Bob said. I straighten out my arms and squirm out of my jacket, and James hears nothing but the sound of clothes shuffling. I don't know what exactly he's planning, but I don't think I'm going to fight against anything. He's driving me fucking crazy, my body's aching, and it's all his fault. Now I expect him to fix it. 

The leather jacket falls around my lower back. And my fly is down, I'm practically begging to be stripped, but all James is letting me have now is this kiss. Not that I'm exactly mad about that. When he pulls away from me, he keeps his forehead against mine. 

"Get in the backseat for me." 

I nod against him, and being so goddamn scrawny, I can fit between the seats and crawl over the console. I can almost lay flat on the seats, too. James is a hell of a lot bigger than me, so he has to get out of the car and open the back door to get to me. He's already covered in snowflakes when I see him again. 

Now he's between my legs on the seats, and he takes my tiny wrists in his hands. My heart patters. 

He pins my hands above my head and he's got this...grin on his face, I don't know if it's because my hips are seeking friction or because my eyes are about to pop from my skull. 

His thumbs are pressed to the middle of my palms, as he stares down at me. 

"You look gooood like this," he says. His knee pins my thigh down, the one that's not hanging off seats, to keep my legs apart. 

"But you look scared, too."

I nod again. I don't think I have much else to say but James' name and 'fuck'. 

"Scared of me? Look."

He lets one wrist free and tilts my chin up. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I got ya." 

He kisses me again, but it's quick and for reassurance. 

I probably look like I'm about to cry. And I might. But I want him to keep going, so bad that my legs are starting to shake. 

"What are you going to do to me?" I question, as his lips press against my throat. I'm sure he can feel me gulp in fear. 

"That depends." 

Now both of my wrists are free and I hear the sounds of metal clacking against metal. He's undoing his belt. 

"I could keep you pinned to the seats, or I could set you on my lap, watch those pretty curls bounce. Your choice."

He wants me to watch him toy with the belt, so he kneels up, and tugs at the leather. 

He pulls it out of the belt loops for me to watch, nice and slow. 

The only thing I can think about while he's got that belt in his veiny hands is what kind of mark it would leave across my skin. 

I can hardly see him. It's dark, and my damn curly bangs are in my eyes. I wanna see him, I wanna see more of him, just maybe a bit more clearly. My eyes wander and strain to focus on my captor. I just can't see him with that dark shirt. 

Maybe as well lose the shirt. 

I guess I've worked up a bit of bravery. I sit up, as best I can with my leg pinned. Then I sneak my fingers under his shirt, to press the pads against his waist. 

He grins again. 

Just noticed how toothy his smile really is. 

"Off?" 

Nod. 

"What's that? I can't hear you."

I haven't heard my own voice in a while. I repeat after him, "Off," but the age difference is pretty clear between the two voices. 

"I shouldn't even listen to you," His hands replace mine under the shirt, and he pulls it off of his torso. 

Good Christ, he may as well be chiseled out of fucking granite. 

When he tosses the shirt aside, he continues. "You've been a real brat." 

"Brat..?"

"If you can't even obey orders from your boss, how am I supposed to get you to behave?" 

I blush and press my lips together. 

Fuck. He's...

Kinky. I can tell. 

Maybe I'll get to find out what sort of marks his belt leaves on the skin. 

"Show me how well you can mind me, kid." James tugs at the hem of my shirt. I guess I can put a little facade on before I start disobeying on purpose. I just really, really wanna feel the wrath of that belt. 

I pull the shirt over my head, in a pretty clumsy fashion, and drop it the floor. 

"God, you're tiny." James' paw curls around the side of my rib cage. His thumb brushes over my nipple and I wince. 

"And fragile." 

I have to fight the urge to knee him in the groin. I know I'm tiny, thanks. I don't need to be reminded. 

His grip on my side gets rougher and I let out a winded gasp.

"I could just break you." 

"Then break me." 

Even I'm impressed with my response. But I have no fucking clue what I've just said. 

"Well," he raises and eyebrow and smiles. "Aren't you touchy?"

I feel the fingers trailing down my sides until they dig under my waistband, and with a force I didn't expect, they yank both my jeans and my briefs off of my waist. Now I'm completely bare, save for my calves and my feet, but I'm sticking to the leather seats. No kidding, I'm probably dripping sweat. 

I quickly bring my arms down to cover myself but he smacks them away and pins me down again. "What'd I say about minding me?" He asks, and he picks the belt up off the seat. 

My heart almost stops. 

"No sense in trying to hide now. No-sense-at-all."

With every word he dusts the belt over my chest in a different direction. When I said that I wanted that belt to smack me, I kind of meant somewhere else. But he's piqued my curiosity. Now I just wait for his next order, and hopefully I'll get that violent contact that I want. 

"Now are you gonna listen to me?" 

"Yes sir."

"Thaaaaat's a good boy." 

He climbs off of me for a moment, sits against the console, bending so that he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling of the car. "Now get those shoes off, I want you mobile."

Fuck, now's my chance. 

All I do is smile and stick my tongue out at him. 

"Oh, really?" He says, cracking the belt against itself. "I'm giving you a warning, take your shoes off, now." 

"Make me."

He grabs my right arm, pulls it straight to gain access to my chest. My other hand is free, so I use it to cover my eyes before he-

SMACK. 

The sound is stuck in this car and it sounds much louder than I expected it to. That, followed by a dramatic arch of my back and I scream I couldn't suppress. Jesus Christ, that hurt. He hit me right between my stomach and my chest. 

"I knew you'd be difficult," he purrs. His hand lets go of my arm and comes back to that same spot where he hit me. He gently rubs it to get my breathing back to normal, it seems like. "I like it when they disobey. I like to watch 'em squirm."

I am squirming, hiding my face, Jesus Christ...

"Hhh..please.."

He leans closer, I can feel his breath roll across my chest. 

"Please what?"

"Hit me again."

"Oh you liked that?"

He takes the belt again, and smacks my chest. It warps around my ribcage. 

"FUCK!"

My nails try to dig into the leather of the seat. "God, you're gonna be a screamer, aren't 'cha?" Fuck. I hope so. He drops the belt back onto the seat and rubs the welt better. 

When I'm back in reality again I do as I was told, and pull the string on my shoes to untie them. Then I pull them off and drop them with the rest of our clothes. 

"Now the pants."

Well shit. 

I scramble out of those too and then I'm left completely naked in the backseat of a stranger's car, save for my socks. 

Not that I'm against that or anything. 

How come he gets to keep his boots and jeans on? What makes him so special?

"Sit up kiddo."

He's on the backseat with me again, except he's not crawling back on top of me, he's sitting normally, with his knees parted. It's been quite a while since I've seen anyone sit that expectantly for me..

I get back to my knees, and he pats his lap. I guess I'm gonna be doing the work. I throw one leg over James' lap, and straddle him, but I don't relax onto him yet. I stay on my knees and place my hands on James' shoulders. They're shaking, pretty hard, and twitch to grab ahold of him. He has one hand in the small of my back, the other?

He reaches behind me, and digs through the pocket in the back of his passenger's seat. 

When he comes back into view, he's holding the familiar little tin square of a condom. 

"Oh..you do this often..?" I ask, shuddering at the thought of James fucking someone else right where we are. But that thought? Gone in an instant, when he says, 

"God, I hope so." 

Before I can really think about what that means, he pinches the bottom edge of wrapper and holds it up for me. 

"Open." 

I start to move my hands up to grab the rubber. "Ah ah ah," 

He brushes the wrapper down the contours of my lips.

"Not with your hands." 

I open my mouth and take the corner between my teeth. He moves it, slowly, and it tears open. 

"Good boy." He pats the belt. "Remember who you serve." 

He flips the rubber around, and grips the half-hidden ring. Then places it back against my mouth and I bite the wrapper away from what's inside, and turn my head to spit it out. 

"Eager," he whispers, taking the condom out of my view. 

I'm fixated on the golden curls sitting on top of his head while he unzips his pants and prepares himself. My focus shatters when I hear him groan, quietly. 

My nails dig into his shoulders a little. 

"Calm down, kiddo, I know. Go ahead." 

My legs have almost gone limp waiting to relax. But I know my whole body is just going to tense up, pretty violently. 

I didn't get to see his dick. So..that's making me a little nervous. 

He's holding it for me, and his other hand is holding my hip. "Slooooowly, now." 

I feel the poorly pre-lubricated rubber touch me and flinch. Jesus fucking hell this is going to hurt. 

I keep my hands firmly planted there on James and drop my head to hide under my hair. I don't want him to see me wince. 

But he does. 

He grabs my curls and yanks my head back up so he can see me. The pain of my hair being pulled makes me whimper on its own, but then I start to lower myself onto him and another moan strains my throat. 

My hands shiver up to James' neck, and start to scratch him there, and on his upper back. 

He puts a paw on my thigh and rubs circles on my skin with his thumb. I finally fall into his lap and my breathing has become desperate. "Unnh, my god,"

"Yeah, darlin', relax," 

How could I relax? Jesus Christ it feels big..

He finally gives up his grip on my hair and my head drops freely. My chin hits my chest. 

"Come here, I wanna see that gorgeous face of yours," 

I bring my head up, with my eyes shut. 

"Feels good?" 

He grinds his hips up against me and my eyes roll back. 

"Ahh, fuuuck...yes sir.."

My moaning already sounds like I'm about to cry. Tears are welling, yes, but because it's so fucking big, I feel like I'm being torn apart. 

My toes curl when he tells me to move. I just grind down against him at first, because whenever I do that he bucks up against me and it..

Oh FUCK.

Gets deeper. 

I finally have to lift myself and drop myself back down to feel something new again. James puts an arm behind him, on the back of the seat, and watches me bounce on his lap. 

I haven't been able to create real words. I'm grunting out obscenities and James' name, over and over, in between pathetic, albeit rhythmic, moans. 

Without my knowing, James grabs the belt and uses it to drag me against him. I fall against James and hug his neck, to tug at his hair. He holds the belt in its place and bucks up against me. 

"Fuck! Oh my-..fuck! Please.."

"More of that?"

"Yes please-.." 

"Such manners. What a good kid I've got on my hands."

He does it again, and again, and again, until he's got down his own rhythm. My head drops against his shoulder, my nails scrape against his scalp. 

I gasp out what I've been wanting to say, but the words all blend together. 

"fuck-...it feels so good-.."

"Oh, I know, darlin'."

"Fuuuuck, please, faster.." 

"I can't like this, kid. You can either stay on my lap, or I can move you and fuck you faster. Your choice."

"Move me. Please." 

"I didn't realize how much you liked pain."

Uh..?

He pats my ass as to signal me to get off. I do, and I'm left bare ass naked sitting on the backseat normally. 

Then James stuffs his dick into his jeans, condom still on, and..

Opens the door. 

Oh fuck. I may have made the wrong choice. 

He stands out in the snow, shirtless, and stretches. 

"You scared?" 

Of getting pneumonia, yes. 

I nod and scrounge around for my clothes. 

"Ah ah ah." 

No clothes. Alright. Great. 

He grabs me by the forearm and pulls me out of the car. It's absolutely fucking freezing. Dude, my dick is gonna shrink out in this fucking snow, naked. 

He pulls me close to him and cups the back of my head, then smashes his lips against mine again. 

My socks are already getting wet from the snow and my entire body is covered in goosebumps. The only warmth I feel is from James' but it's not enough. Holy shit, I'm gonna cry if he keeps me out here for much longer. 

Out of nowhere, he turns me around and shoves me back into the car, except now I'm on my hands and knees. 

I thought for sure he was going to bend me over the cold metal of his hood and fuck me out in the snow for anyone to see. 

I'm pretty sure there's like, eight felonies in there. 

I nearly jump out of my skin when the door shuts behind me and James' freezing hand grips my waist. The other hand has the belt. 

"I thought you were gonna fuck me over your hood-.." I whine. I'm close enough to the window to fog it up. 

"You wouldn't have liked that?" 

I shake my head. 

"I love to watch you quiver. But I'm not evil." 

He caps off the word 'evil' by smacking my back with the belt. I groan and my hand lands on the foggy window. 

"I ain't no saint, either, darlin'."

I'm amazed that he can fuck me like this in his car without craning his neck up to the ceiling. Or honestly, he could be doing that. I can no longer see anything but the fog my breath leaves behind. James presses back into me and both of his hands are around my waist now. I hear the belt clack as it hits the ground. 

"Ahh-James.."

"I know, kid, I know."

I keep my arm barred along the door against the window. There's a handprint, sliding down to separate the fog. My other hand holds me up. All of my weight is focused in the ball of my palm and my weakened knees. 

James' hips hit my skin. 

I bite my tongue, expecting him to pull out and slam back into me again, but his fingers never press against my skin. What the fuck is taking so long?

"James, please..."

"Please?"

Oh god. Don't play this game with me. Not now. 

"Please what? You've gotta use that voice of yours, sweetheart, tell me what'cha want."

I swallow hard before answering. 

"Please fuck me."

I don't like how my voice sounds around those words. Not one bit. It doesn't sound like I'm asking, it just sounds like something I'd say after smashing my fingers in a door. 

"Oh is that all?" His fingers finally press against me tighter like they should have. I clench my jaw. 

He starts to pull out, "It's not like you've been begging for it since Friday, or anything." 

For the love of god, do it already..

I expected him to slam back into me and make my face smack the glass, but he holds me close and pushes back in, so, fucking, slowly. 

I'm not used to slow. It's a nice change, a really nice change. 

"Ohhhh-..fuuuuuck.." 

I bring my other arm up to the window now. It's cold against my skin, and it feels pretty fucking good, considering the rest of me is clammy and warm. Especially my face, but I bury that in between my arms. 

He doesn't fuck me fast, isn't that what we moved for in the first place? But I'm in no place to complain now. Fucking me slow on my hands and knees feels fucking amazing, I can feel a spark in the base of my spine that causes my back to arch. 

My hands continue to leave desperate, sweaty handprints on his window. I can hardly breathe. He's moving in such a way that I can feel every inch move in and out, slow as it may be. 

He gives me the occasional grunt while he watches me blindly follow after his thrusts. 

"James, please-..."

He stops moving for a second while he twists himself, and although I can't see what he's doing, he slaps the belt against itself again. 

He smacks the belt against my lower back and my nails scratch weakly at the glass. A strangled scream of James' name tumbles out of me, and James seems to like it, because he does it again, and that's when his pace starts to pick up. 

My eyes roll back as I push back against him and he fucks me faster, like he said he would. 

"Ahhhh..-fuck, James.."

My head lulls forward and leans on my arms again. He's gotten even deeper now. 

"Yeaaaaah-..louder." 

He drags me back quickly, abruptly, and swings at me with the belt again. My ass hits James' hipbones much faster than before. "Ohh-! Fuck-"

"Louder."

His next thrust is even harder this time, and the smack the belt gave my back is the loudest one yet.

"Fuck!" 

"Come onnnn, kid. Scream for me." 

He fucks me with my face up against the glass now. My hands are making a good handprint frame around whatever sort of mark the side of my face is making. That's enough to make me scream on its own, but he hits me right on the upper thigh. 

God, I let out a gnarly fucking scream. That one absolutely killed me. 

Oh god, keep going-

"Oh god, keep going-"

James giggles and fucks me harder. Whatever he's doing must be a shitload of work, but dear satan, it feels amazing. I have never been handled this way before. Somehow feeling more used than ever before, while also feeling genuinely cared for. 

An odd feeling to stomach, I know. 

'L is for Love, baby,' 

James' hand lands on the back of my head and I feel myself being yanked up, my breath starts to fog up the window again. 

'O is for Oh, yes I do.'

He starts to use his grip on my hair as leverage, so I'm being forced farther and farther back. 

'V is for Virtue, so I ain't gonna hurt you,'

Those strong arms start to warp our position. He pulls me up into his lap, where my shins are tucked under my thighs, and I'm splayed across James' lap. His hand curls around my throat as he continues to thrust against me. 

'E is for Even if you want me to.'

I do my best to grind down against him but I've completely lost all motor skills by now. I'm arching my upper back against James' chest and my arms have twisted behind me to paw at his head and shoulders. I can only imagine how girly I look. But James is already claiming me. 

'R is for Render unto me baby,' 

I'm completely letting him claim me. I'm submitting my all to him. His fingers grip my face and turn it to the side so he can whisper to me...

'M is for that which is-'

"...Mine."

A couple more thrusts, please, just a few more...my moans are getting closer together, and louder, and whinier. His fingernails dig into my chest and scratch down my entire torso. Jesus fucking hell, do it again. 

'A is for Any old how, darlin,'

My chin bounces off of my chest as I go limp, riding out these last few thrusts leading to my edge. I let out a lewd groan of James' name and scratch at the back of his shoulders. His giant hand holds my ribs and he keeps fucking me hard until his needs are met too. 

'And N is for Any old time'.

I just quiver violently and grunt out vulgarities while James holds onto me tight and fucks me like his own personal toy. He already made me cum, it's dripping off my softening cock and onto James' jeans. 

I could have sworn he was going to crush my ribs when he squeezed me, right as he was about to cum. He moans, low and deep, into my ear as he slows down and buries his cock deep as it could go within me. 

I just lull my head and whimper.

"You got me, kid," James says, as his orgasm catches up to him and he lets out a final groan into my ear. 

 

He falls back against the leather seat, and drags me with him. I'm exhausted. Completely out of breath, panting against his chest. It's a bit of an uncomfortable feeling as he pulls out of me, and I'm left lying my naked body on top of someone still clothed. 

My hand shakes against him, as I look up. He doesn't see me, of course. But he can hear me I'm sure. 

"Kirk." 

James turns his head down to see me, but it doesn't quite work. 

"What?" James asks. His hand comes up to hold me where I am, it lands on my shoulder and he holds me closer. 

"My name is Kirk. Kirk Hammett." 

"Kirk. Like from Star Trek." 

I smile and twine my legs between his. 

"Yeah, like from Star Trek." 

"Why don't I start taking you to work, Kirk?" He asks, rubbing my arm. 

"I'd like that." My voice is quiet and content. At least I hope. 

"C'mere." He pats my arm to get me up one more time. I kneel up to see him, and he pulls me down by the back of my neck. Now he's kissing me again, but he doesn't pull away quickly. We lie there in a lip lock for a hot minute, with his arms holding me in place and mine resting on his chest. 

"Thank you," I mumble against him. 

"For?" 

He gives me another series of quiet kisses. 

"Making my job more bearable."

Another moment of stillness, of James holding me against him. 

"I'll see you again won't I?" I ask, and there's a hurt in my voice I wish I didn't let through. 

"'Course kid. How could I pass on an offer like seeing you again?"


End file.
